Gotta Make A Move To A Town That's Right For Me
by HilsK
Summary: The story of how Sam and Dean came to use Funkytown as a codeword for needing help


"What the hell is this?"

Dean glanced over his shoulder to where Sam was doing his best to hunker down in the back seat, which was kind of difficult considering his gigantic height. The kid was seventeen and he was already taller than Dean.

He should have figured something was up when Sam had said he'd stay in the car when they stopped for a bathroom break.

"What?" Sam huffed. "It's Funkytown. I like it."

Dean doubted that was true, or if he did like it was just because it wasn't classic rock. Sam had never made a secret of the fact that he hated the hunter lifestyle, but now he was actually starting to act out. Just little acts of rebellion like changing the radio station but they were happening more and more often.

"Funkytown? Gay," Dean muttered with a masked cough, which earned him a glare from his dad.

"Sam," his dad sighed. "I've told you before to leave the radio alone. It's not your car."

"It's not yours either," Sam shot back. "You gave it to Dean."

Dean was getting a headache. They'd been driving all day, only stopping for bathroom breaks, and for pretty much the whole time Sam had been trying to start fights with their dad.

"Yeah, well I don't want to listen to your pansy music either," he shot over his shoulder. He heard Sam sigh behind him and didn't need to see his brother to picture the glare that was being sent in his direction.

His dad shook his head and switched the radio back to the rock station they'd been listening to before they stopped.

"Dean, pull into the next motel. We'll get some sleep for a few hours and move on in the morning."

They drove for a few miles in silence with nothing but Black Sabbath playing on the radio. Dean hated these moments: the tense silences after his dad and Sam had fought. He was almost glad when they came across a motel, although he was pretty sure things weren't going to get any better when they stopped.

He pulled into the parking lot and his dad got out of the car without a word and went in to get them a room.

"Why do you bait him like that all the time?" Dean asked as soon as his dad was out of sight.

"Me?" Sam snapped. "Right, because it's always my fault. How come you never stick up for me when he gets like this?"

"Come on, Sam, it's just a stupid radio."

"Yeah, well I hate it. I hate all that stupid music from before I was even born and I hate spending hours on the road listening to it."

It was a conversation they'd had before; more than once. Dean didn't have any answers. He was kind of glad when their dad got back before he could reply.

"Come on, boys. Let's move."

The room was a craphole - like most of the ones they stayed in, but it had beds and no immediate sign of roaches so it was already better than some of the places they'd used. Dean dropped his stuff beside the bed nearest the door. It was just a habit he'd sort of fallen into from the days when it was just him and Sam. He wanted to be the first line of defence against anything that managed to make its way into their room.

"Dean, you're on weapons," John growled as he checked out the room. "Sam, you're on research. We need a job."

"Dad, I can't. I have a test on Monday and I have to study."

Dean swore Sam added that little bit of extra whine just to annoy their dad.

"I'm not having this conversation again," John snapped. "You know hunting comes first. You can study later."

Dean felt bad for Sam, really he did. He knew how smart his brother was and their dad did too. Sam could probably have gone on to do some awesome things if their lives were different, but they weren't.

"I'm going to get us some dinner," John grunted, making it clear that their conversation was over. "We passed a burger place on the way in."

"Can I at least have a salad or something?" Sam huffed.

Dean could see his dad's jaw visibly clench and he braced himself for another argument. Instead his dad just sighed.

"I'll see what they've got. Dean, you know the rules."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied automatically. "Don't let anyone in until you give the special knock."

The rules had been the same since they were kids, and even though Dean was twenty-one now, the rules were _still_ the same. It had never really occurred to him to mind. Staying alive was the only thing that mattered.

He locked the door as soon as his dad left and spread the guns out on the bed so he could clean them and be on guard at the same time. He could hear Sam moving about behind him as he set up his computer on the table.

"Hey," he said with a grin when he glanced over and caught the scowl on Sam's face. "Come on, you know you're awesome at research. You'll find something fast and still have plenty of time for your test."

The only response Dean got was a non committal huffing sound from Sam. Nobody did 'pissy' quite like his brother. He kind of missed the days when Sam was younger. Sure they'd always had their arguments - because that's what siblings did - but he'd never found it as hard to talk to his brother as it was now.

They worked in silence after that. Dean dismantled each gun one at a time, cleaned it and put it back together while Sam tapped away on his computer. Dean had done this so many times he didn't even need to think about what he was doing with the weapons. He found it pretty relaxing. Kind of like working on the car. Sometimes he thought he'd like to work with machines, maybe be a mechanic like his dad used to be. But that wasn't an option.

He'd just about finished with the guns when there was a series of taps on the door. It was Dean's name tapped out in morse code, something his dad had come up with years ago. Dean got up and checked the peephole first before letting his dad in.

"Burger for you," John said and handed Dean a brown paper bag. "Salad for you, Sam. You find us a job yet, kiddo?"

Sam flinched at the name. Dean knew he hated it - their dad knew it too - but at least Sam didn't call him on it this time, and he even muttered a thanks for the salad.

"There's what looks like a pretty standard haunting a few towns over," he said as their dad sat down on the bed that wasn't covered in weapons. "A couple reporting things being moved around, cold spots, weird noises. Should be a pretty standard salt and burn."

Their dad nodded. "Great, you two can head out in the morning."

"What?" Sam asked.

"You're not coming with us?" Dean added.

"You boys are old enough to do this without me," their dad replied calmly. "Besides, you need to get used to not being with me all the time. We spread out, we can take down more of these sons of bitches."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd asked his dad over and over to be allowed to hunt on his own, but his dad had always said there was safety in numbers. Now he was sending them out on their own. Something didn't add up.

"What are you going to do while we're gone?" Sam asked the question before Dean could. "Have you got a lead on the thing that killed mom?"

"I'm looking into a few things," their dad replied in that tone of voice he got when he didn't want to talk about something.

"Yeah, well I can't go ghost hunting this weekend," Sam shot back. "I told you, I have a test I need to study for."

Their dad stared at Sam, really stared at him for a long and agonisingly slow couple of minutes. Dean was all prepared for the yelling to start again but instead their dad got dangerously quiet. Somehow that was worse.

"Sam, are you willing to let people die so you can pass a test?"

Sam's body tensed. Their dad had a valid point. Dean knew it and he could tell Sam knew it too.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean said in what he hoped was a light-hearted manner. "It'll be easy. In and out before you know it. I'll even keep the music down in the car so you can read while we drive."

That, at least, got a small smile in response from Sam. Dean saw his brother's body relax a little.

Their dad eased back onto the bed, still fully clothed as he pulled a blanket over himself. "Dean, clear the weapons off the other bed so your brother can get some sleep. You're on first watch."

Five minutes later he was snoring.

"Thanks," Sam said quietly as Dean loaded the weapons back into his bag. "For not being a total dick about my test I mean."

Dean just grunted. He wondered if this was how it was going to be for the rest of their lives: with him caught in the middle and having to stop his dad and his brother from tearing into each other every five minutes.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Sam said, cutting into Dean's thoughts.

"Yeah, okay," Dean replied absently as he set himself up in the chair by the door. At least it wasn't too uncomfortable. There was nothing worse than keeping watch in one of those hard plastic crappy chairs. He heard the water running in the bathroom and sighed. He was bored already and wondered if Sam had any porn on his computer. Probably not. The kid was whiter than white. Even in his quest to be normal, he didn't do many of the things regular seventeen year olds did like looking at porn and trying to buy booze with fake IDs. Hell, he even had the fake IDs already, but the thought had apparently never even crossed Sam's mind.

As well as being bored he was kind of still hungry too, although the burger had been pretty damn good. What he really wanted now was a big slice of apple pie to finish it off, but considering how late it was he didn't think that was going to happen. He recalled seeing some healthy cereal bars or something in Sam's bag. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

He rummaged through the bag, amazed that even his stuff was neat and organised. There were no candy wrappers or even bits of lint in there. Just his computer, some clothes, a few Nutribars and his journal. Oh, and a letter. That was weird.

He glanced over his shoulder. The shower was still running.

It was just one letter, addressed to Sam's actual name and not one of their aliases - which was weird in itself, but it was also addressed to a PO Box that Dean had never heard of. It sure as hell wasn't one of the ones they used to stay in touch with other hunters.

Dean pulled the letter out of the envelope, eyes scanning the page quickly so he could put it back if Sam got out of the shower.

"What the hell?"

He had to read it again just to make sure he was clear on what it was he was looking at. It was a college application. Stanford.

Dean didn't know a lot about schools. Hell, he'd spent more time out of them than he'd spent in them, but he knew Stanford was one of the best. It didn't surprise him that Sam had got an offer from them either, but what did surprise him was the fact that the form was already half filled in.

Sam was going to leave them.

He heard the water shut off in the bathroom and quickly stuffed everything back into Sam's bag, Nutribar totally forgotten.

He wasn't hungry anymore anyway.

* * *

"What's with you?"

They'd set off straight after breakfast and Dean had barely spoken a word to Sam in that time. In fact, he could barely bring himself to look at his brother right now without thinking about Sam breaking up their family.

Ever since their mom had died, all they'd had was each other. And now the tiny amount of stability Dean had ever known was going to be destroyed because his kid brother wanted a 'normal' life. What the hell was 'normal' anyway? It wasn't like Sam was ever going to be able to forget what was out there in the darkness. How could he?

"Dean?"

He glanced over to see Sam looking at him expectantly.

"What?"

"You okay?"

He sighed. "Yeah, Sammy, I'm peachy."

He doubted his brother believed him but Sam didn't say anything and that was good enough for him.

* * *

The motel they checked into was basic but clean, and it had a UFO theme which kind of amused Dean. For all the nasties they had to fight, at least their world was alien free.

He dumped his stuff on the bed by the door and glanced over at Sam who was sat on the end of the other bed. His brother did not look happy. Well, he'd just have to suck it up.

"I'm starving," he announced. "I'm gonna grab us some food. How about you find out what we're up against while I'm gone."

"It's a ghost," Sam replied sullenly. "I told you that before we left."

"Yeah? Well how about you find out whose ghost it is so we can find the remains and torch them."

Sam grunted and Dean took that as his cue to leave. He knew better than to try and talk to his brother when he was in a pissy mood like this. He'd get Sam a burger. The kid needed to lay off the salads and bulk up a bit anyway.

* * *

Getting food took a bit longer than Dean had expected, but it wasn't his fault that the waitress had been hot. He still had the piece of paper with her number in his pocket in case they got finished early with the job.

"Hey, Sammy," he called as he unlocked the motel room door. "Your burger might be a bit cold."

No answer.

The lights were still off and a quick scope of the room showed that it was empty. Before he could call his brother and ask him where he'd gone his phone rang in his jacket pocket. When he pulled it out Sam's name was flashing on the caller ID.

"Sam?"

"Dean."

Sam's voice was muffled and the line was crackling with interference.

"Dude, where are you?" Dean asked. "I got your food here."

"I. . .uh. . .I went somewhere quiet. To study for my test."

Dean pulled his phone back and stared at it for a moment. "Are you kidding me?"

"Dean. . ."

"No," he snapped. "I get that you're into the whole school thing but we're your family! Are you really gonna just bail on us like that? People could die, Sam. You can't tell me you don't care about that. Now I know you and dad don't exactly get along but what about me? I've taken care of you my whole life and, what, I'm not useful anymore? Is that it?"

The phone line went dead.

Shit.

He threw the bag of food on the table and kicked the bed, cursing when all it did was hurt his foot.

He called Sam's number again and it went through to voicemail.

"Damnit, Sam!"

Carlton wasn't a big town. It had one main street with a few stores and bars, a school, a library and a hospital. That was pretty much it.

He hit the library, figuring that was where Sam had gone to study. He hated the places personally. They were too damn quiet, but Sam seemed to love them.

There was a woman behind the counter. She was cute with bobbed red hair and looked nothing at all like the sort of stuffy librarian Dean had expected to find. He turned on the famous Dean Winchester charm as he read the name on her tag.

"Excuse me, uh, Krista is it? I'm looking for my brother and wondered if he'd been in here. You wouldn't have been able to miss him. He's like a giant."

She blushed as he smiled at her and lowered her eyes. Yeah, it worked every time.

"I've been working all day," she finally said in a hushed whisper. "It's been real quiet. People don't like to read much in this town. Only people who have been in are Mrs Suki to pick up some books for the school and old Mr Bassett who comes in once a week to look at military history. I'm sorry. If I see your brother, I'll be sure to tell him you're looking for him."

He tried calling Sam again. Still voicemail.

Krista flashed him a sympathetic smile when he hung up. "Wow, you're really worried about him, aren't you?"

Dean nodded. "It's not like him to just take off like that."

Except maybe it was. He was starting to get the feeling he didn't know his brother that well at all.

Krista glanced up at the clock. "Look, I finish in a few minutes. Let me buy you a drink and I'll help you look for him. I grew up in this town so I know all the places the kids like to hang out."

Dean couldn't decide whether she was hitting on him or if she just genuinely wanted to help. Either way the only other option was the cops, and that was so not an option. Besides, it was entirely possible Sam was just off somewhere blowing off a bit of steam.

"Sure," he smiled, "I could use a drink right about now."

"Great."

* * *

"He'll turn up, you know," Krista assured him over a beer in one of the local bars. "When I was Sam's age I used to get into all kinds of trouble. I think my parents grounded me more times than I could count."

Dean chuckled and drained the last few drops out of the bottle. "Not Sam. His version of being a rebellious teen is not to rebel at all."

He thought back to the college application he'd seen in Sam's bag. Okay, so maybe he was rebelling, just in a different sort of way.

Krista smile. "Well, you obviously care about him a lot."

Dean shrugged. "Our dad wasn't around a lot when we were growing up and our mom died when Sam was still a baby. I've been looking out for him as long as I can remember."

He glanced down and watched as Krista's hand reached across the table and covered his own. Normally this would be his signal to turn the charm up a notch before taking her back to his motel room, but he felt strangely numb, like he was watching what was happening on a TV screen.

"Sam's lucky to have you, Dean," Krista purred. "But who looks out for you?"

Dean shrugged. "I can take care of myself."

He was tired. Really damn tired, and it was too damn hot in this bar. He felt his eyes start to droop.

"You don't look so good. Are you all right?" Krista asked and Dean blinked as his vision went a little fuzzy around the edges. Maybe he was getting sick.

"M'fine."

He pushed back his chair and stood up, letting out a grunt when he nearly fell back down again. Krista moved around the table and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Come on, let me help you."

Dean wanted to protest that he didn't need any help and that he sure as hell could walk out of a bar after one beer, but his mouth didn't seem to be working properly.

Krista guided him outside and the cool air hit him with a blast. It didn't do anything to help though. Dean was dizzy and he felt like he was floating. Half of him wanted to just lie down in the parking lot and go to sleep, the other half of him wanted to puke.

"I think you should come with me," Krista said and started to drag him towards her car. Her voice sounded like it was coming from miles away and when Dean tried to tell her this, all that came out was a strangled moan. Something was seriously wrong, Dean realised, but there was nothing he could do about it. He struggled to get his feet to work but nothing happened.

When Krista eased him into the back seat of her car it was like sinking into the most comfortable mattress he'd ever slept on.

"Just sleep," Krista whispered.

He didn't exactly have much of a choice. He was out cold before the car door had closed.

* * *

He woke up to a headache worse than some hangovers he'd had. His mouth was dry and opening his eyes took a couple of attempts because his head hurt so bad. When he finally managed it without the dim light causing him too much pain, he realised he was in a basement. Why was it always a basement?

"Oh, you're awake," Krista said as she emerged from the shadows. "Just in time to see the show."

Dean groaned, not so much from the pain, but from the fact that he'd been kidnapped by a damn librarian. It was just plain embarrassing.

She was dressed in dark robes now and the smell of incense that Dean picked up immediately told him he was dealing with a witch. Well, it was something new he guessed.

"Great," he sighed. "Just great. I come here to gank a ghost and get caught up with a Satanist instead. I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but Lucifer ain't going to do your bidding just because you ask real nice."

Krista laughed. "You've got quite the mouth on you, Dean. That's going to land you in trouble one day."

She moved forward and crouched down in front of him. "You know you hunters are all the same. By-products of the dark ages when practising witchcraft was an instant death sentence. You know, I never hurt anyone. Well, not at first anyway. You know what they say about a self-fulfilling prophecy though. Call someone evil for long enough and they'll become evil."

Dean's head had cleared a bit now and he was aware that his hands were tied behind his back. He slowly started to try and work them free.

"You know I didn't come here alone, right?"

Krista laughed again. "Oh, right, of course. Your little brother."

She stepped aside and Dean's eyes widened when he spotted Sam in a crumpled heap on the other side of the room.

"Sam!" He snarled and started tugging hard on the ropes that were binding him. "You bitch! What the hell have you done to him?"

"Nothing. Yet. He's just sleeping."

She moved over to Sam and crouched down beside him, brushing a hand gently over his cheek. Sam didn't stir.

"I should be thanking him, really. I had him figured as a hunter as soon as he came into the library. There's not many people in this town who even go near the paranormal section, never mind reading about ghosts. But you? I would never have found you if you hadn't come in looking for your brother."

She moved back over to Dean and pulled out a dagger from the folds of her robes. Dean continued to try and free himself while she sharpened the dagger on a whetstone.

"You know," Krista said with an amused smile, "he tried to warn you with that story about studying for a test. But you went and made it all about you, didn't you? And now poor Sam is going to die with those words being the last ones you ever spoke to him."

"I'll kill you," Dean hissed. "If you touch him, I will kill you. Slowly."

Krista snorted. "Do you really think you'll be alive long enough to try? As soon as I'm done with your brother you're next."

She tested the blade on the tip of her finger and smiled when a small drop of blood welled up. As she crossed the room and crouched down in front of Sam again, Dean let out a growl of frustration as the ropes around him wouldn't give.

"You know," Krista called over her shoulder. "It's amazing how many spells have human blood as an ingredient. I'm going to be stocked up for life by the time I get done with you two."

Dean growled again as she lifted Sam's arm and pushed back his sleeve.

"Sam! Damnit, Sam, wake up!"

"Come on, Dean," Krista sighed. "I know what I'm doing. I dosed him with twice as much as I put in your beer. He's not going to be waking up any time soon."

She ran the dagger across Sam's bare skin, drawing blood instantly. Sam didn't stir as the blood ran down his arm in thick rivulets

"You see," Krista said as she held a bottle under the wound to catch the blood. "I'm not a total monster. He won't suffer."

Dean had a little give in the ropes now and he bit down on his lip as he twisted his hands in an effort to free them. He was getting friction burns on his wrists but he didn't care. All that mattered was getting that crazy bitch away from his little brother.

Finally, one of his hands slipped free and he quickly untied himself. He didn't need to check to know that he'd been stripped of all his weapons. He could tell just from the way his clothes felt lighter. Well, he'd just have to improvise.

"Hey," he called. "I told you I'd kill you if you touched my brother."

Krista scrambled to her feet and Dean took a small amount of satisfaction in the fact that she looked scared. For a moment he thought she was just going to run. There wasn't much to her and he was pretty sure she'd never been trained to fight. But then she screamed and lunged at him, dagger aimed for his heart. He sidestepped the attack and kicked her hand, sending the knife flying towards Sam but luckily landing just shy of where he was lying.

With a fluid motion Dean swept Krista's feet out from underneath her and sent her crashing to the floor. She let out a cry of pain but didn't stop, instead rolling onto her back and extending her hand towards Dean as she started to chant.

Dean doubled over in pain. He had no idea what she was doing but it felt like she was trying to rip his lungs out. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt before and he took a step towards Krista, looking for anything to shut her up and make the pain stop.

He collapsed onto his knees before tumbling to the side and curling in on himself as he struggled to breathe. His vision was starting to white out now and he realised that this was it. He was going to die here in a damp and disgusting basement, killed by a librarian-witch that he hadn't even been hunting in the first place.

He tried to whisper a final apology to Sam but he couldn't even draw the breath needed to form the words.

Krista was on her feet now, standing over him with a smile on her face as she continued to chant.

_I'm sorry, Sammy._

Then as suddenly as it had started, the chanting stopped and the weight lifted from Dean's chest. He looked up just in time to hear a strangled cry come from Krista before she collapsed beside him, her own dagger buried to the hilt in her back. He propped himself up to see Sam on his feet where Krista had been standing, blood still running freely from the wound on his arm.

"Sam?" Dean coughed as the air rushed back into his lungs. Sam was starting to sway on his feet now, eyes glazed and Dean barely scrambled to his feet as his brother collapsed. He lunged and caught Sam as he fell, holding him close as he checked for a pulse.

He was alive.

Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he pulled off his jacket and ripped the sleeve from his shirt for a makeshift bandage. Sam still showed no signs of waking as Dean wrapped his arm tightly to stop the blood flow. He was going to need stitches, but that could wait until they got back to the motel room.

"Come on, Sam, wake up. You're not going to make me carry you out of here are you?"

No reply. Sam was limp and pale in his arms.

"Fine," Dean sighed. "But I am totally bringing this up in all future arguments."

He hefted Sam into his arms, kind of glad now that his brother hadn't bulked up yet.

"Let's get out of here, Sammy."

* * *

"Dean?"

They were out on the street and Dean was trying to work out where the hell their motel was when Sam's sleepy voice murmured in his ear.

"Sam? You back with me?"

He felt his brother stir in his arms a little. "Uh, I think so. What happened? Are you _carrying_ me?"

Dean smirked and set Sam down on his feet, keeping an arm around his brother's waist in case he passed out again.

"How are you feeling?"

Sam pressed a hand to his forehead and blinked a couple of times. "Okay, I guess. Kinda weird."

"Come on," Dean said and let Sam lean on him as they walked in what he hoped was the direction of the motel. "I'll tell you about it when we get back. You might want to add libraries to your list of dangerous places to hang out though."

"Uh . . . okay . . ."

Yeah, his brother was going to be fine.

* * *

Dean dealt with the ghost by himself while Sam rested at the motel and studied for his test. It was a pretty standard salt and burn anyway. It wasn't really like they both needed to be there.

"Yeah, pretty soon I'll be hunting on my own," Dean told Sam as they loaded up the car the next morning.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, like dad will ever let that happen."

"We can't follow him around forever," Dean replied with a shrug. "We gotta go off and do our own thing."

"You really believe that?" Sam frowned.

Of course he didn't, but he'd been thinking about this a lot since he'd carried Sam out of that basement. This was what his brother needed to hear.

"Sure! I mean come on, Sam. We both know you've never wanted to be a hunter. If you want to do something else with your life then you should. Me and dad can manage on our own."

Sam's frown deepened. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

Dean sighed. Sam never did make things easy. "Look, I just want you to be safe, okay? If you want to go off to college or whatever, I'm not going to stop you."

"How did you. . .did you go through my stuff?"

"No," Dean lied. "Why would I even want to?"

Sam shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway. Do you think dad will ever let me quit hunting?"

"He'll come around."

Sam didn't look convinced. "You sure about that?"

He wasn't.

"Of course. Now come on, let's get back. Might be best if we don't mention the whole kidnapping and nearly getting killed thing though."

"Yeah."

They got into the car and Dean twisted to face Sam instead of starting the engine. "Hey, there's something else I need to say."

Sam blinked at him in surprise. "Wow, you're really in a caring and sharing mood today. You sure you're okay?"

"Shut up," Dean shot back but there was no bite to his words. "Look, I'm sorry I bawled you out when you called me before. I know you were only trying to warn me."

Sam smiled at him gently. "Hey, don't sweat it. We don't exactly have a codeword for 'help I'm locked in a basement with a psycho witch'."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, well maybe we should."

"Well, I'm kind of hoping that's the last psycho witch we meet."

"I'm serious, dude. We need something to say when one of us is in trouble but can't talk."

He switched on the engine and the radio blared out something that was definitely not Led Zepplin.

"Again with the radio?" He sighed, glancing at Sam as he turned it down. "And it's the same damn song."

Sam shrugged. "It's just the local radio station."

"Yeah, well someone needs to tell the local station that the 80s weren't cool the first time around."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, because the music you listen to isn't dated at all."

"It's classic, Sam. There's a difference between classic and dated."

As Dean pulled out of the motel car park Sam smirked and turned up the radio so that Funkytown was blaring.

"Hey, Dean, I've got the perfect codeword for us to use."

The End.


End file.
